The Spice of Life
by Mrs.Captain.Rogers
Summary: When young chef Bucky Barnes finds a scrawny blonde kid rooting through his trash one night he can't help but feel bad for the kid. Skinny Steve x Winter Soldier chef AU
1. Cinnamon

It had been nearly a week of rain and the flooding throughout the city was becoming a major pain to chef and owner Bucky Barnes. Thanks to the abysmal weather he hadn't seen a customer in nearly two days. His scuffed black work shoes padded softly across the smooth black and white checkered tile as he exited the kitchen and followed the sound of chatter into the front dining room.

"I say just call it and close up for the night boss. We haven't had a customer all day." Sam's voice pulled him from his thoughts as Bucky rounded the corner.

"You say something?"

"Yeah close up. We're just burning payroll and brain cells standing around. Half the scheduled stuff got called off anyway. Send these chuckleheads home and Tasha, you and I will have enjoy my latest concoction at the bar." 

Bucky knew his front of house manager was right. His flesh hand ran through his greasy hair that was long overdue for a cut and a good washing.

"Yeah alright, you lot punch out and get out of here. Call in and let me know when you get home thought." The few faces looking at him nodded at the orders and quickly scattered to gather their things.

Bucky may have only been a few years older than most of his staff but he always looked out for them like they were siblings or nieces and nephews. He might have been their boss but their safety still meant a lot to him. Once the last staff member was out into the driving rain Bucky locked up and went to join Sam and Natasha, his sous chef, at the shining bar top.

Natasha was plopped comfortably down on a dark leather bar stool, her black chef coat unbuttoned showing a peek of the red tank top that lie underneath. She was chattering away about some new dish she'd been working on but Bucky was too exhausted to listen.

"You alright Bucky?" The female voice pulled him from his head this time.

"Yeah just a lot on my mind. It sounds good…" _I think_ he replied rubbing his eyes. For the most part he trusted Natasha to run the joint all on her own if he wasn't around. As his hands pulled away he was greeted by a bright yellow drink in a martini glass.

"Give it a try, let me know what you think." Sam didn't usually try out new drinks on the folks at work but he had figured why not considering the weather.

"What's in it?" Natasha had, thankfully, asked the question that had been stuck on Bucky's lips. Sam rattled through a list of ingredients that the chef wasn't entirely listening to, something about lemon and candied ginger, and booze. Without much more prompting Bucky took a sip and set the glass back down.

"Its actually not half bad," he answered after a minute. "Clean, sweet, with just a hint of spice from the ginger. What are you calling it?" he asked.

"The Wasp. It's something my buddy Scott's girl came up with. Well she came up with the flavor list, I did the rest." A smile pulled at Bucky's tired face.

"You did good Sam. We should try it out on the happy hour menu and see how the guests like it… once this rain clears up of course."

"Cause that's totally gonna happen soon." Natasha's usual snark caused both men to laugh.

"Maybe we should use the new dining room tables to make an art," Sam offered as he finished washing the last few bar dishes.

"Well you two paddle on home and I'll see you both tomorrow." Bucky yawned loudly and stretched his lean body to its full measure, his fingertips just brushing the bottom of the light fixture. His two friends gathered their things and headed out the door into the softening rain as he locked up behind them.

Yawning once again Bucky headed for the stairs that lead to his cozy flat that was tucked away on the upper floor of his building. The young chef was eternally grateful for the small living quarters as paying rent for living space was pointless. He barely ever left the restaurant except on food runs.

The apartment upstairs was small but warm. Aromas and heat from the main kitchen below wafted up through the worn wooden floorboards and permeated the grey walls. A loud yawn wormed its way from his throat as the young man rubbed his eyes.

 _Shopping list for tomorrow, payroll, then off to bed… maybe a shower first…_

The thoughts bounced around in his mind as he wandered down the hall to his small office. The scent of cinnamon, ginger, and all spice wafted past him as the small fan began to spin.

Halfway through his shopping list for the next day's specials menu movement cause Bucky's gaze. He glanced over and watched the CCTV monitor on the corner of the desk. The grainy black and white picture of his back ally flicked through three different views. Reaching over Bucky selected the angle pointed directly on his dumpster and trashcans.

A creature of some sort was rooting through his trash. An exhausted groan escaped Bucky's soft lips as he zoomed in a little.

 _Of course this happens tonight while it's pouring._

As he watched the young chef tried to comprehend what was rooting through his trash. It was too large to be a cat or a raccoon and unless something had escaped from the zoo it seemed it could only be a stray dog. He grabbed his father's worn handgun from the desk drawer and wandered downstairs in a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

"Little shit's gonna be missing a tail when I'm done with him," he muttered as he unlocked the door to the back alley. Outside rain poured down on the shadows. Light skittered out into the darkness from the bright kitchen, framing Bucky like a halo.

"Hey! Hey, who's out there?" he shouted. "Get out of my trash. Go on get out!" His threats echoed off the slick brick walls. The movement behind the nearest trashcan paused for a brief moment before continuing. "Hey did you hear me? Get lost!" Bucky stepped out onto the first step trying hard to keep out of the driving rain.

"Yeah, yeah I heard you!" A voice rang out of the shadows as the figure in the over turned straighten up. Bucky had never expected it to be a person. Not just a person, but a kid, a scrawny boy who couldn't have been one hundred pounds soaking wet and boy was he. "What are you yelling for anyway? It's in your trash, why does it matter if I root through it a little?" Bucky sighed and slid the gun into the waist band of his pants.

"You got a name kid?"

The question clearly caught the young man off guard. "Well of course I have a name." The chef chuckled softly and stepped back up onto the top step out of the rain.

"Tell me what it is and maybe I'll feed you something that wasn't in the trash." The lanky teen slowly stepped closer to the stairs.

"I just have to tell you my name and you'll give me a meal?" Bucky nodded.

"Yeah just trying to help out another person. So what do you say?" He stepped out of the doorway giving the kid room to enter the building. He lighted up the few stone steps and entered the bright, clean kitchen.

"It's Timothy, Timothy Dugan."

Bucky eyed the kid for a second from top to bottom. He knew Tim Dugan. Tim Dugan was his delivery boy from one of the local shops the young chef frequented. Dugan was stocky, built like a wall really with broad shoulders and the start of a good mustache already. He tore his eyes away from this kid as he shut the door firmly behind him.

This was no Tim Dugan, so just who exactly was this kid standing in the middle of his kitchen leaving an ever growing puddle.


	2. Ginger

Previously:

Bucky eyed the kid for a second from top to bottom. He knew Tim Dugan. Tim Dugan was his delivery boy from one of the local shops the young chef frequented. Dugan was stocky, built like a wall really with broad shoulders and the start of a good mustache already. He tore his eyes away from this kid as he shut the door firmly behind him.

This was no Tim Dugan, so just who exactly was this kid standing in the middle of his kitchen leaving an ever growing puddle.

"Don't move."

It wasn't a request, it wasn't a question. As Bucky turned, his back to the boy, the light glinted first off his left arm and then off the firearm wedged in his waistband. Normally one to snark back about everything the kid stayed silent. A hard shiver ran down his back and whether it was from cold or fear he wasn't completely sure himself.

"Tim Dugan huh?" he said ducking into the small laundry room off the back of the kitchen.

"Yeah, what's it matter?"

There was a tang to the boy's words, a familiar one, it sounded like Bucky's old neighborhood. Bright blue eyes glanced around the spotless kitchen taking in every gleaming surface and sharp edge.

"Well as a matter of fact…" A large blue towel hit the boy square in the face muffling the brunette's words. "I know Tim Dugan quite well. His dad owns the butcher shop I go to for specialty cuts. Now there's two things I know about Tim Dugan, first he always goes by Dumb Dumb, not Tim or Timothy; and two you most certainly are not him."

The blonde stood dumbfounded. His small stature seemed to shrink even more having been caught in his lie. Bucky had once against disappeared into the small laundry room. He returned a moment later to find the boy still standing in the same spot, the same dumb look on his face.

"So I'll tell you again, tell me who you are, the truth this time, and I'll feed you." He came to a stop a few steps from the frail boy. The chef held out a small pile consisting of dry clothes and a second towel. "Name?" Reaching out hesitantly the boy took the pile, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. It was clear to Bucky that he was having some sort of internal conflict. Finally the boy spoke.

"Steve Rogers."

"Alright Rogers bathroom is through there. Change out of those wet clothes and I'll get started on some chow." Blue eyes stared back at him in shock.

"You're for real?" The question was hesitant and his voice had a slight chatter as the coolness of the kitchen sent shivers all through the young boy.

"Would you just go change before I change my mind?" Bucky's eyes glinted with laughter as he glanced over his shoulder at the boy. "You allergic to anything?" It was a bit random but as a chef it was one of the first thing Bucky always asked someone when cooking for them. Steve shook his head as he wandered away in search of the bathroom.

Once the door was closed Steve got to work stripping off his soaked clothes. His hands were shaking and upon glancing in the mirror there was a slight blue tint to his lips.

 _Who is this guy anyway?_

His mind wandered as he stripped down to his boxers before turning his attention to the nearly folded, still slightly warm, pile sitting on the bathroom counter. The tile floor was cool and slick beneath his flat bare feet.

"You alright in there?" Bucky's shout was muffled by the heavy door.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a sec" Steve called back as his hands dove into the pile. First he grabbed the fluffy towel on the top and rubbed himself. It was fluffy but still a bit course like it had been well used. Once that was done he unfolded the blue sweatpants. The corners of his mouth tugged up as he slid on the slightly warm sweats. They were far too long and baggy for the lanky young man. After tugging the draw cord as tight as he could get it Steve rolled first the waistband followed by the cuffs until they fit, well fit better. Thin nimble fingers brushed across the soft worn cotton t-shirt. Tugging it on he smiled again seeing the design reflected back in the mirror.

The grey shirt sported the outline of a flying monkey with the phrase "Don't make me call my flying monkeys" sprawled across it in a funky blue font. Rapping on the door pulled his view from the mirror.

"Steve man come on I'm hungry" Bucky called from the other side of the door. For that brief moment it almost seemed like they had known each other for ages.

"Yeah I know. I said I was coming" Steve replied tugging open the door. A wash of warm air and spices hit Steve like a wall. "What is that smell?" His words were barely a breath. A playful smirk pulled at Bucky's pink lips.

"You'll just have to wait and find out kid. Have a seat." The blonde noticed the small counter along the edge of the kitchen and scrambled up into the nearest empty seat. "So Steve, care to tell me why you were in my trash?"

A small basket of rolls along with a plate of dipping oil was sitting out for the boy. His mouth was full of bread before the question had hit the air. A mumbled answer tried to sneak out through the bread.

"Didn't your mama teach you not to speak with your mouth full?" Those brilliant blue eyes glared back at the young chef through floppy blonde bangs. "Now if you'd kindly repeat that."

"Oh no, you asked for my name, that's all you're getting." Thin wiry arms folded across his shallow chest. The brunette simply turned back to his work and remained quiet. "So you uh, you want to tell me what you're making?" His spindly neck craned as he tried to see what was on the stove.

"I told you, you'll have to wait and see."

Two big serving bowls waited patiently on the counter as he worked. The scents of garlic, ginger, and citrus filled the shining kitchen as the two men remained silent; only the sounds of the chef at work filled the quiet room. Finally Bucky turned a pot in one hand and a sauté pan in the other.

Each bowl welcomed a bed of rice noodles followed by a steaming concoction full of cabbage, leek, and other vegetables. Crispy strips of perfectly cooked chicken rested across the top. Steve leaned in taking a deep breath, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips bringing a pink touch to his cheeks and ears.

"It smells amazing. What is it?" he asked reaching for the bowl in Bucky's outstretched hand. The chef paused for a moment letting the boy dig in.

"Doesn't really have a name. My friend Nat calls them her red room noodles, something about the school she went to as a kid." The blonde barely seemed to register the words headed in his direction. He was halfway through the bowl already and barreling rapidly toward the bottom. "Easy now, you'll make yourself sick wolfing it down like that."

Steve stopped for a moment and glanced up. A stray noodle hung from his mouth while a trail of clear brother dripped on his chin.

"When was the last good meal you had?"

He didn't respond to the question before diving back into the bowl. "Steve, seriously, when did you last eat?" Loud slurping was the only response Bucky got to his question. Knowing he wasn't going to get any sort of answer at the moment Bucky sighed and took a few bites from his own bowl. A quiet calm settled over the room only broken by the occasional scraping of a fork across the bowl bottom or the slurping of a noodle. Finally Bucky broke the quiet with another attempt at conversation.

"So, do you actually know Dum Dum?" Bright eyes watched the boy across from him waiting.

"Yeah, we've played ball a few times in the park. Well it's usually me and him and this kid named Gabe, and this French kid from a few streets over." Bucky nodded and returned to his own bowl. Once again they settled into a comfortable silence.

"A week."

Steve's words pulled Bucky from his own head causing him to look up. "It's been at least a week since I've eaten something that didn't come out of a dumpster." The answer startled Bucky. It hadn't remotely been close to what he was expecting.

"And where are you staying?"

It was Steve's turn to be startled by the other man's words. Bucky watched the young blonde, waiting for some sort of answer. The quiet was broken by the slurping of noodles. "Stevie?" The corners of Steve's lips tugged up slowly.

"I could say I've been staying with a friend or a cousin but well you won't believe me will you?" It was Bucky's turn to smile. "Am I wrong?"

"No, so what _is_ your answer Stevie?"

"The park a couple blocks away."

Once again Bucky was shocked by the answer. Running his metal fingers through his dark hair the man sighed.

"Well it's a good thing I keep the spare bed made up." Pushing his tired body onto his feet Bucky started toward the stair. He paused at the light switch. Steve still sat on the chair. "You coming or what?" Realization flashed across Steve's face as he scampered after Bucky nearly tripping on the baggy clothes.

"But just tonight, I can take care of myself you know." A soft chuckle echoed through the stairwell as the two men made their way up to the small cozy space.

"Whatever you say Stevie."


	3. Lavender

Narrow stairs led the way to a small flat. Two windows face out onto the city boasting a lovely view of the twinkling lights. A small bed, piled with blankets, sat in one corner. TV and record player sat on a scratched entertainment center on the far wall across from a saggy green couch. From the door Steve spotted a small but clean kitchen to the left and a closed door which one could only assume lead to the bathroom to the right.

"It's not much but its home." Bucky made his way to the window nearest the TV, pushing it open easily allowing in a slight breeze. The scent of jasmine and lavender lingered on the air. "The bathroom's through there and obviously the kitchen." He thumbed toward the corner.

"It's perfect." Steve smiled, his eyes were lit up as he took in the tiny flat. "It's a lot like the place I grew up in." Bucky smiled warmly hearing the kid opening up a little. An army green couch cushion flew right at Steve, colliding square with his face. His warm hearty laugh echoed through the small place.

"Oh is that how it's going to be?" Bucky chuckled hearing the playful threatening in his voice. "You've got another thing coming if you think I'll let that fly." The same cushion flew clear past Bucky's head colliding with the window, knocking it open, and landing on the fire escape beyond.

"Was that your best shot? Course I should be amazed you even threw it that far for as scrawny as you are…" A smirk spread across the chef's features as he turned only to be wiped away by the soaking wet blue towel that smacked him in the face with a squelch. It slid down landing on the cool wood floor with a loud splat. He laughed again and shook his head. "You're a character you know that." His words pulled a smile up on Steve's thin face.

Turning back to his work Bucky pulled the folded mattress out of the worn out sofa. Clean sheets and blankets were wrapped around it, always ready to embrace a guest.

"It's not the Ritz or anything but it's warm and dry and well it's not a park bench." Steve had yet to say a word since his playful threat.

"It's great, it really is."

The brunette padded over to a small linen closet fetching several fluffy pillows and a few well used blankets. It wasn't lost to Steve how nearly all of Bucky's stuff seemed worn or second hand… everything upstairs at least. The springs of the thin bed groaned as Steve sank into it.

"You know something, I don't even know your name yet." Steve even seemed surprised by his words. "You know my name but I don't know yours yet." The brunette smiled as he toed his work shoes off.

"It's James, James Buchanan Barnes but everyone just calls me Chef and my real friends call me Bucky." He glanced over to find Steve buried in the pile of blankets already.

"Want me to leave the window open?" It was common for him to sleep with it open even during rainy nights.

"Yeah that's fine." Steve yawned through his words as he got settled. "So what do I get to call you then? Not that it matters much since this is just for tonight after all."

Bucky turned from his place at the kitchen sink. "What'd you say Steve?"

He waited in silence for a moment but nothing but shadows and silence filled the flat. He smiled hearing the soft steady breathing of Steve already asleep.

"You can call me whatever you want Stevie." Bucky's whispers mingled with the scent of lavender and shadows across the apartment. Crawling into his own bed Bucky's mind began to wander.

 _He's a scrappy little guy. He's got the brightest blue eyes I think I've ever seen._

Bucky licked his lips as he stared into the darkness. His mind began to wonder what it would be like to kiss those thin lips, to have his hands all over that tiny body. He groaned, feeling himself get hard at the thoughts.

 _I've just met the guy and he's already doing this to me. What am I going to do if something comes from this…?_

"I'm so messed up" he muttered. Grabbing a few tissues off the bedside table Bucky pressed his calloused palm against his length. He swallowed a moan as he stroked himself rapidly trying his hardest to not wake Steve. Images of the thin boy naked and moaning under him urged Bucky to his release. A loud gasp shot through the small room.

"Fuck," Bucky muttered, bolting up praying he hadn't woken Steve. The chef flopped back after seeing the boy was still out cold. "Good." He honestly was too tired to care about cleaning up. Once the used tissues were discarded Bucky rolled over to sleep.

Steve's sleep was filled with dreams about dark hair, a strong jaw, and a cool metal hand on his skin. Tossing and turning a thin layer of sweat covered his brow. Just before dawn Steve was woken from a particularly vivid dream involving those cool metal fingers in a few tantalizing places.

 _If only, but this is just a one-time thing_.

Steve first went to the bathroom then made his way down the narrow squeaky stairs to the large professional kitchen. He made quick work of the dishes from the previous night. While they dried he began to explore both the walk in freezer and the dry storage pantry.

The smell of cinnamon and butter wafted up through the ceiling into the apartment above. Salty, fatty bacon joined it followed by the warm bitter aroma of coffee.

Bright rays sprayed across the bed in the small apartment, spurring Bucky from his dreams. The delicious smells from downstairs caught his attention. It was too early for either Sam or Natasha to be there and Bucky had always lived alone. So it left Bucky wondering who the hell was downstairs cooking.

Sitting up he spied the mussed pull out and the night's events flooded his mind.

"Steve" he whispered as he quickly made his way downstairs. The small table in the kitchen was covered with food. Pancakes, bacon, coffee, perfectly all of Bucky's favorites, were all plated and waiting. The dishes were done and put away. As he sipped on the coffee the chef spied a note on the table.

"James,

Thank you so much for taking me in out of the rain last night. I appreciate the bed and the food. I know breakfast isn't much but it's the least I could do before heading on my way. Have a good life. –Steve."

A lump formed in his throat as Bucky looked over the letter a second and third time.

 _Oh no, no, no, I have to find him. This kid needs help. I can't let him go back to living on the streets. I have to find him._

Bucky's mind raced, grabbing coat, keys, and shoes, as he dashed out the door with only one objective. Find Steve, convince him to come back with him.


	4. Lemon Verbena

The rain had finally tapered off, only a spitting mist still lingered in the air. Bucky groaned softly wishing he'd grabbed his umbrella in his mad scramble to get out the door.

 _Where do I even begin looking? Where would he even go?_

His mind raced as he hurried down the street weaving through the scattered Sunday morning walkers.

"He said something about the park a few blocks down, I'll start there." He muttered to himself as he dashed past a dog walker and a couple with a baby pram.

The air was still thick with moisture from the rain making it hard for Steve to breath. He coughed several times into his thin gloves. An elderly couple coming the other way looked at his thin frame and worn coat with concern. They shared a look as they passed him. Hearing church bells chiming the hour Steve hunched forward against the wind and hurried along.

 _What if he's not there? Where would I even begin to look next? The city is huge, he could be anywhere._

Bucky's thoughts were beginning to grow frantic. He couldn't understand why he was so set on finding this kid he knew nothing about but he knew he had to find Steve.

The park wasn't far from the restaurant and with the way Bucky was rushing it took him no time to arrive. Dark eyes scanned the park. He made the snap decision to start at one end of the park and make his way to the other end.

The young chef started by the gardens on the east end of the park. Blank rose bushes, empty banks of sunflowers, and small beds which usually help tulips in a vast array of colors flicked across his gaze but no Steve. Moving along he past the empty water fountains that children splashed about in during the summer. He swore as he neared the playgrounds. He'd covered nearly half the park and still no Steve. A few children ran around screaming gleefully as he past despite the chill in the air. One of his servers sat on a bench near the jungle gym watching her daughter play.

"Hey Chef!"

Bucky jumped in his skin at the sound. Eyes scanned the area looking for the source. Finally he spied the young woman in the hounds tooth coat. Jogging over Bucky smiled at his employee.

"Hi Jean, how are you?" The brunette tucked her hair behind her ears glancing up at him.

"I'm well but are you alright? You look like you've lost something." A soft chuckle escaped Bucky's pink lips as he raked his fingers through his dark hair that still showed signs of bedhead.

"Well to be honest I'm looking for someone. It's a long story, okay not that long but I don't have time to tell it right now. Anyway he's about yah high, blonde hair, bright blue eyes, maybe 100 pounds dripping wet." He held his flesh hand about shoulder height. Jean's eyes glimmered and her brow furrowed a bit as she thought for a moment.

"Is he skinny beyond all reason?" The new voice was followed by approaching footsteps.

"Yeah, why have you seen him?" Dark eyes glimmered with hope for a moment as Bucky waited for the older man to answer his question.

"No, not this morning anyway, that description just sounds an awful lot like the kid that sleeps down on the south end of the park by the chess tables. I hope he's not in any sort of trouble."

Several sets of concerned eyes looked back at Bucky, this time it was their turn to wait for an answer. Once again he began to rake his flesh fingers through his mussed hair.

"No, I just need to talk to him is all." Jean looked at her employer and smiled knowingly. Seeing the smile in green eyes Bucky scowled. "Don't look at me like that or I'll section you in the bar all next week."

The mother just nodded and looked away from her employer. "Whatever you say Chef." Bucky scowled again but quickly thanked the man for the information before hurrying off in the direction of the chess tables. It wasn't much to go on but it was a lead nonetheless.

A yawn pulled its way from his mouth proving to Bucky just how worn out he still was. After the previous night's adventure he'd still only managed a few hours of fitful sleep. A quick glance at his phone caused him to groan loudly.

 _It's a good thing Nat is opening the kitchen this morning_

He jogged through dewy grass over to a coffee cart and got a steaming cup. The thin paper cup offered its warmth to his right hand, its content the only way he took it, black. Slowly sipping on the brew Bucky wandered the rest of the way to the small alcove of trees that housed the chess tables. Memories of time spent here with his own mother watching people play flooded his mind as he sank onto a damp bench.

The sun was barely up but the city was already giving to buzz, a hive of activity, after all the rain in the days before. On the street behind him several cars trekked through the thin layer of standing water. Bucky sat for several minutes, his eyes searching the surrounding area for any sign of Steve.

 _He's got to be here somewhere. No idea what I'm going to say but I have to at least try._

His thoughts had gotten away from him when he heard the chiming of the church bells across the street. It had been an hour already and still no sign of the scrappy blond. Bucky groaned as he pushed to his feet and turned.

 _Might as well talk to the church people, see if they've seen him._

Coming around to the other side Bucky dropped down to the stone half wall that edged the park. The church was dwarfed by its neighbors and yet it still looked completely in the right place. A well-tended garden surrounded the front lawn with a stone walk way leading up to a matching stone front. The river stone walls hugged stained glass windows leading up to a high peaking arching. Atop the roof sat a steeple of at least ten feet. At the very top was a weathervane, black in color, depiction an angel blowing a horn.

As he watched the congregation fill out through the heavy wooden door Bucky was swept up by more memories, this time of his sister when they were young. It had been far too long and he knew once he had a chance he needed to give her a call. Families, couples, even a handful of solo stragglers gushed from the doorway and out onto the sidewalk.

Feeling defeated Bucky prepared to head home and get his day stared, convinced he could search for Steve another day, when he spied the boy exiting the church arm in arm with a pretty brunette. She was an inch or two taller than Steve, thanks to her heels, and wore a smart red dress that hung just past her knees. The boy laughed at something she said as they made their way down the stone steps toward the street.

Already on his feet Bucky started forward only to stop dead in his tracks. The pretty girl in red dug out a small box from her brown leather purse and handed it to Steve. It was wrapped in simple white paper with a beautifully tied red and blue tulle bow around it. The blonde opened it then took a deep smell of the content. Closing it again he hugged the girl, smiling brightly.

The chef started to call Steve's name but stopped again knocked silent as the young woman leaned in and pressed a red lipped kiss to Steve's pale cheek. Cheeks, ears, and neck all blushed red as Steve felt her do so. Bucky chuckled softly at the little guy. A man about Bucky's age, with the same straight nose as the girl, called her from down the walk a ways. She spoke quickly to Steve, pressed another chaste kiss to his cheek, and ran off to join her family.

Bucky didn't know what shocked him more the whole scene he had just witnessed or the surge of jealousy that was washing over him. He looked down at his scuffed shoes trying hard to compose himself a bit.

"James?" Steve's voice startled him. "James? What are you doing here?" The question caught him off guard.

"I uh I came looking for you actually. The guy at the playground said you might be around the chess tables… so here I am."

Steve's lips tugged up at the corners.

"You came looking for me?" Looking the chef up and down Steve recognized the same t-shirt and sweats from the night before and it was obvious he hadn't brushed his hair or shaved yet that morning either. "You saw the note and came right after me?" The smile hesitantly grew. "Why would you do that? I thought I made it clear that was just a onetime thing?"

The odd pair had begun to walk back in the direction of Bucky's place. The city was beginning to hum with activity again.

"Well I started thinking and… Stevie you can't sleep on a park bench. You said it had been a week since you'd eaten anything that didn't come out of a trash out. Just come back and crash at my place, you know, just till you're back on your feet."

"I'm not into taking handouts James."

"Okay it won't be a handout. You can work at the restaurant."

"But I do-"

Bucky held up his left hand.

"I don't want to hear it, I won't take no for an answer. You'll stay at my place and eat meals with me."

"But James I-"

"And another thing didn't you hear me last night? You don't have to call me James if you don't want to. You can call me Bucky."

Steve scowled up at the man as they arrived at the restaurant. The pair started up the stairs in the alley to the apartment.

"Are you finished?" Bucky glanced over his shoulder as he unlocked the door.

"Yes."

"First of all I wasn't saying no. I was trying to say that I don't know the first thing about working in a restaurant. Second of all, no I didn't hear you. I kind of zonked out pretty quickly last night. Last of all, won't you get in some sort of trouble if you've got me working under the table like that?"

Bucky was already inside tidying up some. Steve stumbled on the doorstop as a coughing fit hit him. He struggled to breathe as his thin frame shook. The small white box flew from his hand, skittering across the floor, stopping against a wall. Bucky hurried over with a glass of water and rubbed his back gently until Steve's coughing subsided.

The chef fetched the box which had fallen open. A waft of lemon verbena and black tea hit his nose. "Smart one, that girl at the church," he said as he set about brewing a small batch of the tea. "This stuff should help with your cough some." The dented kettle whistled loudly. Steve sank into the thin pullout bed, which was still out from the night before, his breathing slow and slightly ragged. Bucky pressed a warm cup of the brew into Steve's thin hands.

"So what do you say? Do we have a deal Stevie?" A smile tugged at his lips as Steve sipped the warm liquid. It felt good in his chest and belly, the warmth spreading through him.

"Yeah Bucky I think we do."


	5. Sweet Pea

The echoing of pounding footsteps on the stairs filled the air quickly followed by beating on the door. An agitated voice, strong and slightly accented, came through the door. It was muffled at first like the person was speaking softly before doubling in volume to almost a shout.

"Chef you in there? You'd better not be asleep or hung over… I'm giving you to the count of three to answer this door." The voice quickly began counting in Russian. Bucky crossed the room in a handful of long strides and wretched the door open. The young chef was greeted with the sight of both his sous chef and front of house manager. "About time! Do you have any clue what time it is? We have so much work to do and I still don't have specials for the day or the finalized brunch menu. We still have to visit the market and get the-"

"Natasha go downstairs and get started on our usual brunch fair. I will have the specials and the brunch menu to you in ten. Sam please make sure everything is properly set up. Oh and don't forget the Zimmermanns are coming in today to celebrate their son's engagement. Let's make sure to make them something special."

Both the pair on the door step and the blonde on the bed looked at him in amazement. Bucky had barely batted an eyelash and yet he'd had every last detail taken care of in his mind.

"Oh and Steve, finish your tea. We are going shopping." The small visitor scrambled to do as instructed before following Bucky out the door. The day blew by and before either man knew it evening had fallen and Sam was locking up for the night. It had been a whirlwind of sense and smells for Steve as he did everything asked of him.

"Steve you hungry?"

The question pulled him from his thoughts as he bent over a particularly stubborn pot. Blue eyes swept the kitchen looking for the source of the voice. "Over here kid." Steve spun and spied Bucky leaning against the door into the kitchen from the outside. "Did you hear me? Hungry?" The blonde nodded slowly.

"Yes sir," he replied when he finally found his voice again. There was a strange weight against his thin chest that Steve simply couldn't explain. His gaze lingered on Bucky's form illumined by the setting sun from the door behind him.

"Head into the dining room, I'll bring dinner in soon." Steve set the pot aside and wandered out to the dining room where Sam, Natasha, and several of the other staff members sat together around a long community table.

"There's our new man." Sam smiled at Steve as he peeked around the corner. "Come in, grab a seat. On Sundays, Buck cooks supper for the staff. You must be starving kid. I don't think I saw you leave the dish pit all day, except to take the trash out."

"Yes sir." Steve nodded slowly as he sank into an empty chair at the near end of the table.

"Call me Sam. I won't bite, not like Natasha over there…" The dark skinned man glanced across the table at the red headed woman in a dark chef coat. She rolled her eyes and returned to the phone in her hand, muttering something in Russian.

Twenty minutes passed before Bucky made his way out of the kitchen pushing a service cart featuring a large pot and a stack of bowls. "Stevie come help me with this," he called as he began ladling into the top bowl. The kid leapt to his feet and hurried over. Once bowls and bread were dispensed to all the small cluster as fellows fell quiet only the occasional slurp or scrape of spoon on bowl, filling the silence.

The soup was light, unlike anything Steve had ever eaten, but filling in a stick to your ribs sort of way. The green hue of it was somewhat off putting but it was warm and free, the only things Steve cared about in that moment. There were smoky flavors, bacon maybe and a smoothness to the texture that the young man had not expected.

"hey uh Ja- Bucky, what's in this?" It had taken nearly the whole bowl for Steve to gather the courage to even voice his small question.

"It's split pea soup but I used English sweet peas. There's bacon and cream in there too." He shrugged casually dragging his bread through the remnants in the bowl.

"I don't care what's in it, it's just good." Steve glanced down at the young woman at the far end of the table.

 _What was her name? Mary, no, um_ _…_ _Marie? No that_ _'_ _s not it either_ _…_ _Oh is it Maria, that sounds right._

Steve nodded in agreement as they began to gather the empty dishes. Blue eyes lingered on the stack of dishes Steve knew he would have to now wash. He still had to sweep up and take out the evening's trash.

It was another hour before he wandered upstairs to the small apartment. Bucky sat on the couch, now returned to its normal form. There was a beer in his hand as well as an empty twin sitting on the coffee table.

"Who is she Stevie? Your best girl?" The question caught Steve off guard.

"Who?"

"The pretty girl in the red dress, the one at the church, who is she?"

"Peg? She's my friend. She works at the soup kitchen the church puts on three days a week. Her mother runs it. Why do you ask?" Steve sank into the sagging chair under the window. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason, just curious. She seemed pretty sweet on you back at the church this morning. Pretty kisses, little gifts, is that normal?" Blood crept into Steve's cheeks and ears turning him a shade of red that nearly matched the lipstick he'd had to scrub off that very morning. Before he could say anything Bucky was on his feet heading for his own bed. "Hit the hay Stevie, we've got an early start tomorrow."

Bucky sank into his bed, burrowing under the blankets. It didn't take long for the young chef to fall asleep. Images of pale skin, narrow shoulders and hips, and pink lips lingered in his dreams. Blue eyes seemed to chase him around in his own mind as he tossed and turned.

The former soldier sat up for the third time in less than two hours. Unable to shake his dreams he looked across the room at the thin frame sleeping in his spare bed.

 _That girl is sweet on him. She_ _'_ _d be lucky to have him. I_ _'_ _d be luckier, I_ _'_ _d be better for him._

Bucky swore softly as the thoughts lingered in his mind. "I can't have him, he's just a friend. I'm just helping him back on his feet. That's all this is," he muttered nearly silent as he gazed at the lithe body on the pull out.

 _He_ _'_ _s just a friend_ _…_ _But if he_ _'_ _s just a friend, why can_ _'_ _t I get him out of my head?_

A heavy head of dark hair fell back on a soft pillow as sleep pulled on Bucky's mind. Once again he found himself tossing and turning to dreams and images of the scrawny blonde boy on his couch.


End file.
